Profumed by Scandal
by girl in the glen
Summary: In another look at the post-series careers of Solo and Kuryakin, a sly move on the part of some in the Intelligence community may take out the Russian once and for all. Written for the MFUWSS Easter Egg Challenge on LJ. This little egg was for Carabele.


**_Note to self:_**

**_IK is not to be apprised of the Nealy Document until I can confirm its source and content as legitimate._**

:~~~~~:

Napoleon Solo had been seated at the big chair for little more than a year when his first real conflict came along. A document that had traveled, supposedly, from England's highest seat of power to the attention of the five section chiefs of the U.N.C.L.E. was now in his hands; the subject matter involved him on a personal level. On a professional level it could mean the end of his career if mishandled.

From the highest political office in the UK came a document dating back to the Profumo scandal, that sexual highball of Soviet spies and call girls. After all of these years there were allegations that Illya Kuryakin, who was at the time a commissioned officer in the Soviet navy, was a friend or acquaintance of Captain Yevgeny Ivanov, the man whose relations with Christine Keeler had alarmed the British Intelligence community because of her amorous affair with John Profumo, then Secretary of State for War.

The document had all of the earmarks of a CIA scheme. Some in that organization had never gotten over the presence of a Russian within UNCLE, and even now, fifteen years later, Kuryakin loomed as a threat to some whose motives seemed tinged with the scent of a personal vendetta.

The Nearly Document, as it was called, had arrived in a courier's pouch with clear instructions that mandated some sort of action to either prove Illya's innocence or turn him over to the British to face charges of espionage. Napoleon had no inclination to do so, and as head of the Northwest Section and as such, Kuryakin's superior, his would be the final word on the matter. As an international law enforcement agency, UNCLE had agents and employees from nearly every country in the free world and some from behind the Iron Curtain. Illya had been the first Russian to join the Command; it was to his credit that several more had been added as a result of his exemplary work and dedication.

Napoleon mulled it over once more, the accusation of complicity based on Illya's status in the Soviet navy and the improbability of him knowing the Naval attache´, Captain Ivanov. It was nothing. No intelligence supported this accusation and no one had come forward to either confirm or officially accuse Illya of wrongdoing. It was all conjecture, and it was baseless as far as Solo could see.

Napoleon's problem was in how to handle this situation without it appearing that he was favoring his old partner. Illya was now the head of Section IV, lending his astute observations to the analyzation of intelligence, in turn relaying them to Solo. This partnership of information and strategic planning was a boon to the Command, something not often overlooked by those who observed such things.

In a moment of inspired leadership, Napoleon summoned his administrative assistant.

"Giselle, please come in here and bring along something to take a letter." The young woman had replaced Lisa Rogers when the latter decided it was impossible for her to remain after Waverly's departure. The two had been together for quite some time and she was not able to separate herself from the old man. She instead took on the job of personal assistant to him as he segued from Section Chief to philanthropist and political analyst.

Giselle entered the office of the Northwest Chief with a notepad and a new urn of coffee.

"I thought you might be in need of some more caffeine." She smiled her pretty smile and considered once again how lucky she was to work for this man. Good looking and considerate, hers was the best job in Headquarters.

"Thank you, Giselle. Now, please take this down..." And so he began to dictate what would become the last word on the Nealy Document.

Two days later Illya Kuryakin was summoned to the office of the Chief of the Northwest Section of UNCLE. He glided through the pneumatic doors as they swished open, still slender as he had been in his youth, his blond hair slightly longer, a little less blond.

"I received your summons Napoleon, I hope it's worth making the trip." The dry wit remained with a touch of ire; no doubt he was deep into some surveillance or other intelligence report.

"Illya, do you recall the Profumo Scandal, back in '61?" Kuryakin sat down in the seat he had occupied for nearly twenty-five years. What had prompted this return to the turbulent 60's?

"I was in London, working with Harry Beldon. But you know that, so I must assume that it is from a position of knowledge that you ask the question." Always to the point, he had called Napoleon on this subterfuge.

"Some inquiries have been raised as to the possibility that ...' Even though the threat was past, it was still upsetting to the Section Chief for one of his own to be accused, devalued.

"It was suggested that you and Captain Yevgeny Ivanov were acquainted from your days in the Soviet navy.' Napoleon paused to let a reaction come to the surface, not that he actually expected to see one. Illya had never been one to accommodate in that manner.

"It has also been forwarded as a theory worthy of trial and possible imprisonment, that you were a part of the espionage that resulted from the Profumo Affair."

Illya sat with his hands on the table, reminiscent of so many other meetings around the great man's desk in years past. He looked down at his hands, a twitch of a smile ever so close to presenting itself. Kuryakin knew that if there was such a case against him that Napoleon would not have presented it like this. He knew his old friend very well.

"I take it that you have done something to dispel this... _suggestion_." Napoleon had to smile now. The reins of power were something not to be trifled with, but on those occasions when it was a matter of righting wrongs, especially before damage was done, then Napoleon was glad to be wielding those reins.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I have set the record straight. It happened to be within my grasp and so the Nealy Document... that's what it was called... is now in the trash bin where it belongs.' He paused again, reflecting on how much the two of them had endured, both as agents and men. Invasions of privacy, accusations, and the loss of some of the dearest people they had each known.

"I just thought you'd like to know, now that it's over that is. I didn't need you flying to England to take out some bureaucrat with an unenlightened view of Russians." The joke was on everyone else, and only he and Illya ever really got it.

"Thank you, Napoleon, for saving my hide once again. I am sure the balance sheet is leaning heavily to your column. It is handy having you for a friend, though." With that the smile was broad on the still youthful face. Napoleon wondered at times if his ascension to the seat of power had betrayed his own youthfulness. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make; not everyone could have the Russian's luck when it came to that. It was small compensation for the other misfortunes he had endured early in life.

"So, are we on for dinner as planned. I was thinking we might try that new Mexican restaurant that's being touted as the next 'big' thing." Illya grimaced slightly at the thought of hot peppers and lukewarm beer. Perhaps that was just a memory of some distant adventure, back when he was truly young.

"Does it strike you as odd that the Profumo incident is referred to as the Profumo Affair? Why do you think that is?" Illya could bring up the most obtuse things in the course of a conversation about dinner.

"I don't know, perhaps because it was a three sided love affair? Why, do you think...?" They looked at each other with practiced scrutiny, then in unison...

"Nah."


End file.
